Life's Like That
by backseat compromises
Summary: America and Russia sing 'Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better, I Can Do Anything Better Than You' at a G8 meeting,France follows with a lap dance to 'Peacock',Italy with 'Satellite' and England finishes with 'I am the very model of a Modern Major General'.
1. prologue

It isn't America's fault that G8 meetings are usually terribly boring.

Make that damn _bloody_ boring.

America's eyebrow twitches as he wonders how England's voice seems to have crept into his mind and shrugs it off as he continues staring into space while Russia goes on and on about something... Something... What something? He frowns as his eyes sweep across the room - the rest of the nations are either busy frolicking in the land of Nod or are making their way there for a vacation of some sort - and his gaze settles on Russia again, who is, very clearly...

Wait. Did he just say that he was _better_ than America?

America stands up suddenly and his chair falls to the ground. He looks straight at Russia and lifts his head up high. Italy looks up sleepily, wondering what on earth is happening while France cancels his vacation at the land of Nod and sits up, preparing to enjoy the show.

"Anything you can do I can do better," America declares, interrupting Russia in mid sentence. "I can do anything better than you."

Russia gapes at him, before regaining his composure. His eyes narrow.

By now, the rest of the nations have returned from their vacations, most noticeably Japan, who has stealthily set up some recording equipment. With a grin, he presses the 'record' button and leans back in his seat.

"No you can't," Russia retorts.

"Yes I can!" America huffs, visibly annoyed.

"No you can't!"

"Yes I can!"

"No you can't!"

"Yes I can! Yes I can!"

England wonders where the knowledge from the etiquette lessons he gave America as a child went. Down the drain, probably. Germany and Canada stare at America and Russia, horrified. Italy merely raises an eyebrow, going "Ve?" and France tries desperately to suppress his urge to laugh.

Japan, on the other hand, has a maniacal grin spreading across his face.

Things are going to get _very, very interesting.

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_**a/n: **for the kink meme. i think we all know where this is going lol. anyway, **review**?


	2. anything you can do i can do better

**a/n: **thank you **sai195**, **Sunako-s-wrath**, **The Fujoshi** and **Threnna **for your reviews! Here's the next bit!

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"Anything you can be I can be greater," Russia declares. "Sooner or later I'll be greater than you."

"No you're not," America looks at him, horrified.

"Yes I am!"

"No you're not!"

"Yes I am!"

"No you're not!"

"Yes I am, yes I am," Russia sends a smirk America's way and _what in the blazes did the sodding git think he was doing?_

_Who the hell are you?_ America asks the odd voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like a certain nation with eyebrows the size of poisonous caterpillars.

_I'm your conscience, lad_, the voice replies, sneering.

America feels like banging his head against the desk.

"I'm superior, you're inferior," Russia's smirk turns into what looks oddly like a_ flirtatious glare_, if such a thing existed.

"I'm the big attraction, you're the small," America counters.

Everyone holds their breath as they wait for someone to say what they all know is coming (no pun intended) and France is the one who does it, making the obligatory 'so now we're making jokes about penis size' remark that sends the 'audience' into fits of laughter.

"I'm the major one, you're the minor one," Russia replies.

Not to be outdone, America fixes him with the meanest glare he can give. "I can beat you shooting, that's not all."

England buries his face in his hands. "Good Lord," he whispers. He doesn't want to think of it, but thoughts of America asking him about _that_ game with the soggy biscuit surface unbidden in his mind.

France has stopped suppressing his laughter a long time ago.

Japan adjusts his recording equipment, smirking.

"Anything you can do I can do better, I can do anything better than you," America proclaims, all ready to declare victory.

"No you can't!"

"Yes I can!"

"No you can't!"

"Yes I can!"

"No you can't!"

"Yes I can, yes I can!"

Germany feels as if he has been transported into an elementary schoolyard.

"Anything you can be I can be greater," Russia scoffs. "Sooner or later I'll be greater than you."

"No you're not," America replies immediately.

"Yes I am!"

"No you're not!"

"Yes I am!"

"No you're not!"

"Yes I am, yes I am!"

Canada feels as if his worst fears about America's (and possibly Russia's) (im)maturity has just been confirmed.

"I can shoot a partridge with a single cartridge," Russia smiles serenely.

"I can shoot a sparrow with a bow and arrow," America retorts.

"I can live on bread and cheese."

"And only that?"

"Yes."

"So can a rat," America rolls his eyes while Italy hoots with laughter.

"Any note you can reach I can go higher," Russia's voice is filled with confidence.

"I can sing anything higher than you," America rises to his challenge immediately.

"No you can't," Russia goes an octave higher.

"Yes, I can," America follows suit.

"No you can't," Russia finds that an octave is out of the question, so he settles for semitones.

"Yes I can," secretly, America is glad that Russia started it with the semitones.

"No you can't."

"Yes I can."

"No you can't."

"Yes I can."

"No you can't," Russia's voice is high and shrill and Japan checks his recording equipment, alarmed, paranoid about the possibility of any sort of damage happening to it.

"Yes I can," America sounds like a banshee in mating season and Germany rushes to the windows to check for any cracks in the glass. The strawberry blonde takes a deep breath before continuing. "Anything you can buy I can buy cheaper, I can buy anything cheaper than you."

"Fifty cents," Russia sounds as if he's haggling at a flea market.

"Forty cents," America replies, as if he's trying to bargain.

"Thirty cents."

"Twenty cents."

"No you can't!"

"Yes I can, Yes I can!"

"Anything you can say I can say softer," Russia begins and Japan rushes to toggle with the settings of his camcorder.

"I can say anything softer than you," America's voice drops to a whisper.

"No you can't," Russia's voice is as smooth as velvet, sending a shiver down America's spine.

"Yes I can," America's voice becomes a murmur.

"No you can't."

"Yes I can."

"No you can't."

"Yes I can, yes I can."

The rest of the nations wonder if the 'argument' has ended.

"I can drink my liquor faster than a flicker," a bottle of vodka magically appears out of nowhere, with Russia grinning.

"I can do it quicker and get even sicker."

England thinks of the countless number of times America threw up at his house, eyebrow twitching.

"I can open any safe."

"Without being caught?"

"Sure."

"That's what I thought," America sniffs. You _crook, _his self-proclaimed conscience adds.

"Any note you can hold I can hold longer," Russia changes the topic.

"I can hold any note longer than you," America's eyes widen as Russia inches towards him.

"No you can't," Russia drags the syllables.

"Yes I can," America holds them longer.

"No you can't."

"Yes I can, yes I can."

"No you can't... Yes you can."

"Anything you can wear I can wear better," America eyes Russia's scarf. "In what you wear I'd look better than you."

France's eyebrow twitches. "Is Amerique trying to _flirt_?" he whistles softly.

"In my coat?" Russia's lips curl upwards, more than happy to play along, taking his coat off and putting it on America.

"In your shirt," America replies, watching Russia strip it off and put it on him.

"In my shoes," Russia takes them off.

"In your scarf," America raises an eyebrow.

Russia pouts. The rest of the nations cannot believe their eyes. "No you can't."

"Yes I can, yes I can," America removes the offending garment and he is treated to a magnificent view of Russia's upper torso. Toned, well built and mmmmmm, oh so _sexy_... Wait, was that him thinking or was it his conscience?

"Anyone you can lick I can lick faster," Russia licks his lips and America stares, watching the pink appendage slide over those cherry red lips...

"I can lick anyone faster than you," America almost forgets to retort.

England feels as if America is all grown up now.

"With your fist?" Russia asks.

"With my feet," a devilish grin spreads across America's face and France's eyes twinkle, thinking the exact same thing as England.

"With your feet?" Russia raises an eyebrow skeptically.

Germany feels as if the rating of the meeting took a sudden turn from PG to NC16.

"With an axe," America shoots him a glare and squeaks as Russia's arms encircle his waist.

"No you can't," Russia pulls him closer.

"Yes I can, yes I can," America puts his hands on the Russian's shoulders.

"I can jump a hurdle," Russia tilts America's chin upwards.

"I can wear a girdle," America looks straight into his eyes.

"You mean a mirdle," Canada adds, trying to be helpful. "America, have you been putting on weight?"

England wonders if he has laughed any harder in his entire life.

Germany is sure that by now, his palm thinks it's married to his face.

"I can knit a sweater," Russia's tone is wry, trying to hold back his laughter.

"I can fill it better," America wrinkles his nose, while his 'conscience' remarks that it's _bollocks, the Russian can probably only knit a scarf._

"I can do most anything," Russia's eyes are sparkling.

"Can you bake a pie?"

"No."

"Neither can I."

"I taught you how to bake scones!" England interjects. A terrible sort of hush falls over all present in the meeting as they think of England's infamous _Scones of Death _and Italy feels as if he might burst into tears just from the mere thought of it at any moment.

"That's beside the point, Angleterre," France cuts him off before he can start on a rant so he can go back to watching the show.

"Anything you can sing I can sing sweeter," Russia smiles.

"I can sing anything sweeter than you," America's voice grows sweeter, causing the hair on the back of the rest of the nations' neck to stand.

"No you can't," Russia's voice is now saccharine sweet.

"Yes I can," America's voice is so sweet that England feels the need to eat a bag of crisps to rid the taste.

"No you can't," Russia's voice is unbearably sweet and Italy feels a sudden urge to finish twenty bowls of pasta.

"Oh, yes, I can."

"No you can't."

"Yes I can."

"No you can't."

"Yes I can."

"No you can't, can't, can't," Russia's lips are millimetres away from America's.

"Yes I can, can, can, can," America's voice is soft and breathy.

"No you can't," Russia murmurs against America's lips.

America smirks. "Yes I can," he captures Russia's lips in a kiss.

The rest of the nations look on, fascinated as the pair make out in front of them. Japan is the first to start clapping, applauding their 'performance' and soon, the nations give them a standing ovation as America feels his cheeks flush a brilliant hue of scarlet.

"Now," France begins, addressing the nations. "I believe it's now my turn to put on a show."

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**a/n: **Don't go away, we'll be right back with France singing Katy Perry's 'Peacock'! No prizes for guessing who'll be the 'unfortunate' victim!


	3. peacock

**a/n: **thank you **NorwegianSpiritNinja**, **The Fujoshi** and **Threnna** for your lovely reviews! for this chapter, you are strongly advised to listen to katy perry's 'peacock' while reading ^^**  


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**"I wanna see your peacock, cock, cock, your peacock, cock," France winks at Canada, who suddenly finds himself bound to his seat.

"France!" Canada interrupts, trying to break free of his binds. They feel weird and are made of plastic and when he realises that they are from the correction tape cartridge that France was fiddling with before America and Russia's performance. He supposes that France must have tied him up (he wonders why he did not notice it happening) when they were singing and... Good Lord.

"Your peacock, cock, cock, your peacock," France eyes Canada hungrily.

"America!" Canada turns to his brother, who is still busy making out with Russia.

"I wanna see your peacock, cock, cock, your peacock, cock. Your peacock, cock, cock, your peacock," France saunters towards Canada, whose eyes are wide in horror.

Everyone else is holding their breath, they know what is coming (no pun intended again) and this time it's England who says it - "So we've gone from making jokes about penis size to singing about the actual thing" - and the rest of the nations burst out laughing wildly.

"Word on the street, you got somethin' to show me-me," France looks down at Canada's crotch, licking his lips. "Magical, colourful, Mr. Mystery-y," he reaches for it and Canada pushes hard in his swivel chair until he hits the wall.

"I'm intrigued, for a peek, heard it's fascinating," France puts his hands on Canada's shoulders.

"Come on baby see, whatchu hidin' underneath," he winks.

"Who the hell did you hear it from?" Canada squeaks, but he doesn't get a reply.

"Words are mislead, such a tease," France admonishes as his hands travel lower and Canada's cheeks turn beetroot red. "Wanna see the show-ow," his hands travel past Canada's abdomen, stopping just before his crotch.

"In 3D, a movie, heard it's beautiful-ul," France moves backwards, much to Canada's relief. "Be the judge," he looks at the rest of the nations.

"And my boys gonna take a bow-ow."

Japan is the first to join in, taking his place beside France as some sort of back up dancer. "Come on baby let me see, whatchu hiding underneath," he whispers, much to France's approval.

"I want the jaw droppin', eye poppin', head turnin', body shockin'," France declares, swaying his hips, doing a couple of crotch grabbing movements a la Michael Jackson.

Italy gets up and joins France and Japan.

"Oh oh, ay ay oh, oh oh, ay ay oh," Japan and Italy copy France's actions.

"I want my heart throbbin', ground shakin', show stoppin', amazin'," France rocks his hips forward and Canada gulps because admittedly, the man _is_ rather hot...

"Oh oh, ay ay oh, oh oh, ay ay oh," Japan and Italy echo.

Germany decides that his palm desperately needs to get a divorce from his face before they celebrate their golden anniversary.

"Are you brave enough to let me see your peacock?" France looks pointedly at Canada. "Don't be a chicken boy, stop acting like a bi-atch," he shakes his head disapprovingly.

"I'ma peace out if you don't give me the pay off," France walks forward, sashaying his hips. "Come on baby let me see, what you're hiding underneath."

"Are you brave enough to let me see your peacock?" Japan and Italy join in, following France. "What you're waiting for, it's time for you to show it off," they throw looks looks that make his spine tingle.

"Don't be a shy kinda guy I'll bet it's beautiful," France smirks as he starts to strip off his blazer. "Come on baby let me see, whatchu hidin' underneath," he throws it aside.

By now, America and Russia have stopped making out.

England wonders if the nations will have to hold a funeral for yet another stalk of rose when it is being used to cover France's nether regions.

"I wanna see your peacock, cock, cock, your peacock, cock," France unbuttons his shirt and Canada really wants to squeeze his eyes shut to stop looking but France... Oh France... He's certain his glasses is fogging up due to how hot he's getting.

"Your peacock, cock, cock, your peacock," Japan and Italy provide backing vocals and suddenly, America feels the urge to join in.

"I wanna see your peacock, cock, cock, your peacock, cock," France's eyes land on Canada's crotch again and Canada gulps nervously, hoping that it isn't rising beneath his pants.

"Your peacock, cock, cock, your peacock," France's blue eyes are set aglow with lust and Canada has to admit, _yes, the man is so damn fucking hot. _"I wanna see your..."

"Skip the talk, heard it all, time to walk the walk," France waves his hand about, as if he is fanning himself.

"But I haven't said anything!" Canada protests, but no one is really listening to him any more.

"Brake me off, if you bad, show me who's the boss," France's voice suddenly turns into a dark, _unbearably sexy_ whisper.

"Need some goose, if you lose, come on take a shot," France teases and by now, America has joined his 'bevy' of backup dancers, dragging Russia along with him.

"Come on baby let me see, whatchu hidin' underneath," Japan, Italy, America and Russia chant in unison.

"I want the jaw droppin', eye poppin', head turnin', body shockin'," France sings, doing a body wave.

"Oh oh, ay ay oh, oh oh, ay ay oh," Japan, Italy, America and Russia follow suit.

Germany and England's jaw hits the ground.

"I want my heart throbbin', ground shakin', show stoppin', amazin'," France does it again, smirking.

"Oh oh, ay ay oh, oh oh, ay ay oh," and so does Japan, Italy, America and Russia.

England decides that it is time for him to join in.

"Are you brave enough to let me see your peacock?" France pushes his chest out and back, bopping. "Don't be a chicken boy, stop acting like a bi-atch," he adds.

"I'ma peace out if you don't give me the pay off, come on baby let me see, whatchu hiding underneath."

Russia, America, Japan, Italy and England do their best to bop and move from left to right, keeping in time.

"Are you brave enough to let me see your peacock?" France raises an eyebrow suggestively as he walks towards Canada once again. "What you're waiting for, it's time for you to show it off," his grin grows wide and Canada winces.

"Don't be a shy kinda guy I'll bet it's beautiful," France is now _way too close_ for Canada's comfort.

"Come on baby let me see, whatchu hidin' underneath," the other nations move their legs quickly in a couple of knee rolls.

"I wanna see your peacock, cock, cock," France pushes Canada's legs apart. "Your peacock, cock," his hands caress Canada's thighs.

"Your peacock, cock, cock," by now, Germany has joined in as well, feeling awkward about being the only one left on the 'sidelines'. "Your peacock, cock," France traces intricate patterns all over Canada's inner thigh, causing his hips to buck forward.

"Oh my God no exaggeration," France strokes Canada through his trousers. "Boy all this time was worth the waiting," he cups the Canadian's erection, increasing the speed of his stroking.

"I just shared a tear," France straddles Canada. "I am so unprepared," he lowers himself onto Canada's lap.

The rest of the nations continue dancing, hips rocking forward and back.

England does his best to suppress his laughter - France? Unprepared? - as he does his best to keep in time.

Canada feels as if _he's_ the one who shed plenty of tears.

"You've got the finest architecture," France leans forward hips grinding slowly. "End of the rainbow lookin' treasure," he licks his lips.

"Such a sight to see," France's breath is hot on Canada's earlobe as he grinds his hips against his. "And it's all for me," his breath hitches as Canada's hips jerk upwards involuntarily.

"Are you brave enough to let me see your peacock?" France asks as his hands roam about Canada's chest. "Don't be a chicken boy, stop acting like a bi-atch," he finds a hardened nub on the Canadian's chest and teases it through the flimsy material of his shirt.

"I'ma peace out if you don't give me the pay off," France scrapes a fingernail against it. A moan escapes Canada's lips, despite his best efforts to not enjoy the... Lap dance France was giving him and he feels his cheeks heat up so badly that one could probably fry an egg on it. "Come on baby let me see, whatchu hiding underneath," he grinds harder and Canada moans again, much to his embarrassment.

"Are you brave enough to let me see your peacock?" France asks again as Canada decides that he cannot hold his moans back any longer. "What you're waiting for, it's time for you to show it off," France sinks his nails into Canada's shoulders.

"Don't be a shy kinda guy I'll bet it's beautiful," France's voice is now a breathy whisper - the friction feels so damn good - he wonders if he can hold out any longer. "Come on baby let me see..."

"I wanna see your peacock, cock, cock, your peacock, cock," the rest of the nations roll their hips forward, looking as if they are humping the air.

"I wanna see your," France's hips grind faster and all that Canada tries to say come out as an incoherent mess.

"Your peacock, cock, cock, your peacock," the other nations continue dancing. "I wanna see your peacock, cock, cock, your peacock, cock!"

"I wanna see your," France literally moans the words. "Come on baby let me see, whatchu hidin' underneath," he finishes the song and with another thrust, the both of them go over the edge, panting heavily.

Canada decides that he is never going to turn up at another G8 meeting ever again, if he can help it.

"Ve~" Italy claps and slowly, so do the other nations, getting out of their roles as France's backup dancers. "It's my turn to sing now," he grins and the other nations stare blankly at him.

"Here we go again," America's eyes twinkle.

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**a/n: **italy singing lena meyer-landrut's (she's the german winner of eurovision 2010) 'satellite' is next! don't go away, we'll be right back!


	4. satellite

**a/n: **thanks to **Wicked Winter**, **Valkerie**, **Threnna **and **lunix. renegade** for the reviews! This time, listen to Lena Meyer-Landrut's 'Satellite' while reading!

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"I went everywhere for you," Italy starts, looking at Germany. "I even did my hair for you."

Everyone looks at Italy's hair curl and America raises an eyebrow.

"I bought new underwear, they're blue," Italy's voice is soft and coquettish as he bats his eyelashes. "And I wore 'em just the other day."

Germany's mouth falls open and France whistles.

"Love, you know I'll fight for you," Italy declares passionately and England resists the urge to laugh. "I left on the porch light for you," Italy pouts.

"Whether you are sweet or cruel, I'm gonna love you either way," Italy nods, sending a smouldering look Germany's way.

England nods, laughing deliriously, slapping Germany hard on the back in support and Germany feels like introducing his face to its mistress - the table.

"Love, oh, love, I gotta tell you how I feel about you," Italy sighs dramatically. "Cause I, oh, I can't go a minute without your love," he advances towards Germany.

Canada and France had momentarily taken over America and Russia's position as 'resident G8 couple' and now it seems as if Italy wants to usurp it with Germany.

"Like a satellite, I'm in an orbit all the way around you," Italy literally launches himself in orbit around Germany. "And I would fall out into the night, can't go a minute without your love," he strokes the German's cheek gently and the blonde cringes, not quite knowing how to react.

"Love, I got it bad for you," Italy's hand dips slightly lower to Germany's neck. "I saved the best I have for you," he leans in and Germany grips the arm rest of his seat tight, gulping.

"You sometimes make me sad and blue," Italy's lips are dangerously close to Germany's. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

The blonde nation heaves a sigh in relief as Italy backs away.

"Love, my aim is straight and true! Cupid's arrow is just for you," Italy twirls around. "I even painted my toe nails for you, I did it just the other day!"

"No, I don't think I want to see it," Germany shakes his head.

France applauds appreciatively while America and Russia look at Italy in fascination.

"Love, oh, love, I gotta tell you how I feel about you," Italy declares again and Germany sighs. "Cause I, oh, I can't go a minute without your love!"

"Like a satellite I'm in an orbit all the way around you, and I would fall out into the night, can t go a minute without your love!" Italy launches himself into orbit around Germany once again. "Love, oh, love, I gotta tell you how I feel about you! Cause I, oh, I can't go a minute without your love!"

"Where you go, I'll follow, you set the pace, we'll take it fast and slow," a naughty smile tugs at Italy's lips as Germany makes plans to introduce his face, no, forehead, to a better mistress - the wall. "I'll follow in your way..."

Suddenly the rest of the nations don't feel like knowing what Italy and Germany get up to together in bed.

"You got me, you got me, a force more powerful than gravity," Italy's eyes sparkle. "It's physics, there's no escape~"

"Love, my aim is straight and true," Italy stands up straight. "Cupid's arrow is just for you!" he winks at Germany, who groans.

Canada catches Germany's eye and he shrugs.

"That's life," he mouths as France's hands wander all over his back. The German nods in agreement, cringing.

"I even painted my toe nails for you," Italy shakes his head. "I did it just the other day..."

"Love, oh, love, I gotta tell you how I feel about you! Cause I, oh, I can't go a minute without your love," Italy prances about, singing.

Japan's smile is now disturbingly wide.

France nods appreciatively, swaying along to the beat, before going back to kissing Canada again.

"Like a satellite I'm in orbit all the way around you, and I would fall out into the night, can't go a minute without your," Italy takes a deep breath as he continues singing. "Love, oh, love, I gotta tell you how I feel about you! Cause I, oh, I can't go a minute without your love!"

"Love, love, love," he sighs. "Love."

"Love," Italy's voice is now a breathy whisper. "Love," he leans forward, placing his hands on Germany's thighs, looking into his eyes.

Suddenly, the room is silent and slowly, the nations begin the obligatory chant of 'kiss him!', which they repeat endlessly until Germany does and who knew that Italy was such a _good_ kisser?

_BANG!_

There's a loud crash as one of the swivel chairs are knocked over, causing the nations to jump. England climbs on top of the table, swaying about, laughing giddily.

"Hear, hear!" he hiccups as he spins around on the table, looking drunk on seemingly... _Nothing._

"Not again," Canada cringes as the rest of the countries stare at England.

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**a/n: **lastly, we have England singing 'I Am the Very Model of a Modern Major General!' ^^ don't go away, we'll be right back!


	5. the major general song

**a/n: **thank you **JoyHeart**, **Threnna**, **Wicked Winter **and **Valkerie **for the reviews! and now for England...

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England clears his throat as he looks down at the rest of the nations.

"I am the very model of a modern Major-General," he begins. "I've information vegetable, animal, and mineral," with a sweep of his arm, it's almost as if he has turned into the love child of Britannia Angel and England's pirate self, brought into the world as a result of one drunken night coupled with lots and lots of very screwed up magic.

The other nations look at him, horrified.

"I know the kings of England, and I quote the fights historical, from Marathon to Waterloo, in order categorical," England declares loudly.

"Like, duh," America rolls his eyes. "You're England!"

England gives him a smile that says _I'm going to visit you with a basket of scones very, very soon_ and it shuts America up immediately. He doesn't know which is scarier - the fact that England is suggesting a friendly visit or the fact that England is going to visit him with _scones_.

"I'm very well acquainted, too, with matters mathematical," an odd smile crosses England's face. "I understand equations, both the simple and quadratical," he nods, eyes shining.

"About binomial theorem I'm teeming with a lot o' news," England stumbles forward. "Oh, lot o' news, lot o' news..." he frowns.

"Ah! With many cheerful facts about the square of the hypotenuse," for a moment, he looks as if he's about to fall off the table and Germany gets up, alarmed, pushing England's chair forward so if England falls, at least he falls on his chair.

"With many cheerful facts about the square of the hypotenuse, with many cheerful facts about the square of the hypotenuse, with many cheerful facts about the square of the hypote-pote-nuse!" from out of nowhere, a chorus seems to echo England's words.

A maniacal gleam crosses Japan's eyes.

"I'm very good at integral and differential calculus," England surprises the nations when he doesn't fall. "I know the scientific names of beings animalculous."

"In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral," England spreads his arms, spinning in a circle. "I am the very model of a modern Major-General!"

"In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral, I am the very model of a modern Major-General!" the chorus sings.

_It's the fae, lad_, the odd, 'self proclaimed' conscience in America's head remarks wryly.

"I know our mythic history, King Arthur's and Sir Caradoc's," England starts dancing on the table and it looks like a drunken sort of jig.

"Like I said, you're England," America mutters under his breath, annoyed.

"I answer hard acrostics, I've a pretty taste for paradox," England licks his lips.

"Really?" France finds himself saying, earning a glare from England.

"I quote in elegiacs all the crimes of Heliogabalus, in conics I can floor peculiarities parabolous!" England does another drunken twirl, much to Germany's horror. "I can tell undoubted Raphaels from Gerard Dows and Zoffanies, I know the croaking chorus from The Frogs of Aristophanes!"

"Ve, but all the chorus says is 'Bre-ke-ke-kex ko-ax ko-ax'," Italy offers.

"Then I can hum a fugue of which I've heard the music's din afore," England ignores him and continues. "Din afore, din afore, din afore..."

"But a fugue contains many different voices," Germany stares at England, puzzled.

"Ah! And whistle all the airs from that infernal nonsense Pinafore," England grins, acting as if Germany did not say anything.

"And whistle all the airs from that infernal nonsense Pinafore, and whistle all the airs from that infernal nonsense Pinafore, and whistle all the airs from that infernal nonsense Pina-pinafore!" the ghostly chorus repeats after England once more.

Canada decides that he doesn't want to know who the invisible chorus is made up of.

"Then I can write a washing bill in Babylonic cuneiform," England nods, smirking. "And tell you ev'ry detail of Caractacus's uniform!"

"But England, in John H. Foley's sculpture, he's only wearing a loincloth," America cuts in irritably.

"In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral," England smiles serenely at America, daring him to challenge his statements again and the other nation feels a shiver go down his spine. "I am the very model of a modern Major-General!"

"In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral, I am the very model of a modern Major-General!"

"In fact, when I know what is meant by "mamelon" and "ravelin"," England spreads his arms out dramatically, as if letting the rest of the nations in on a secret. "When I can tell at sight a Mauser rifle from a Javelin!"

Germany has a bad feeling that the number of mistresses that his face has (not including the original wife, his hand) will require two hands to count, because he's certain the number is more than five.

"When such affairs as sorties and surprises I'm more wary at," England shakes his head disapprovingly, wagging his finger, looking as if he is reprimanding someone when there is nobody (apart from a horrified looking Russia, whose place is soon taken by Japan's recording equipment) in front of him. "And when I know precisely what is meant by "commissariat"!"

"When I have learnt what progress has been made in modern gunnery," England raises his thick eyebrows and bats his eyelashes, to which Germany thinks that crawling into a corner to avoid England's singing/seemingly drunken antics is much better than introducing his face to more partners, because it already has a harem full of them. "When I know more of tactics than a novice in a nunnery!"

"In short, when I've a smattering of elemental strategy..." England takes a deep breath in dismay. "Yeah oh! Strategy, strategy, mategy, mategy, sat a... Ah, I have it! You'll say a better Major-General has never sat a gee!"

"You'll say a better Major-General has never sat a gee! You'll say a better Major-General has never sat a gee! You'll say a better Major-General has never sat a sat a gee!"

Italy decides that listening to a drunken England is bad for his ears, and thus he crawls into Germany's lap and curls up in a ball there. The German stares at him, shocked, but nevertheless, holds him tied because indeed, England's behaviour is horrifying and nightmare inducing.

"For my military knowledge, though I'm plucky and adventury," England pulls out an imaginary sword and begins fighting with the air.

_Those were the good old days_, the voice in America's head drawls, causing him to jump.

"Has only been brought down to the beginning of the century!"

No one is surprised when they discover that Russia has his face buried in his scarf to avoid looking at England, who is stripping off his blazer and shirt.

"But still, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral, I am the very model of a modern Major-General!" England loudly proclaims, does a flying leap off the table and lands in a split on the ground.

"Good Lord," Canada exclaims and promptly falls back in a faint.

* * *

**a/n: **and then, my friends, we have the epilogue, the epilogue, the all important epilogue! stick around!


	6. epilogue

**a/n: **arghhh so i took forever with this orz thank you **neko racoon**, **The Fujoshi**, **JoyHeart**, **Lol** and **onhonhon 3** for the reviews!

* * *

The G8 meeting ended in somewhat of an orgy, where America and Russia started making out immediately after England stopped singing and so did Germany and Italy.

France did his best to revive Canada with CPR and after three unsuccessful attempts, Canada came to. It was then followed by long bouts of kissing, touching and groping, to which Canada's attempts to resist were futile.

Japan sat by his recording equipment, grinning, happy with what he had recorded until England grabbed him from his seat and pulled him into a strange dance, to which he obliged warily.

And throughout the entire meeting, no one ever noticed the pink powder coming out of the air conditioning vent, courtesy of America's alien friend, Tony.

* * *

**a/n: **so uhhh i know the epilogue is really short orz i'm sorry! err i have an important announcement to make here, if you really like my writing for hetalia, i am offering to write in return for donations to the japan relief effort here - http : / / community . livejournal . com / help _ japan / 2978 . html ? thread = 2194338 # t2194338 (remove the spaces) - please check it out, thank you!


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